Edge of the Empire: Book 06: Return of the Outcast
by Tactalorian
Summary: History may brand him a traitor to his people; a rebel or renegade without a cause. In the end, it didn't matter how history remembered him. What mattered is that he followed his own path. And that path had only one ending… "I'm coming for you father," Jarek whispered to the storm, "I'm coming for you all."
1. Chapter 1 Rogue

**Forward:** We all of us have things in our past we aren't proud of. Not all battle scars are on one's body. Some of us work tirelessly to do what good we can do to expunge those sins. In truth those wrongs we've committed will never be erased, they visit us in the darkest moments and haunt our steps around unseen corners. Everyone has a struggle in life. The key is turning that struggle into your weapon. We all fight our own battles, both internal and external. In that regard, we are all warriors, regardless of creed. Make no mistake: life is a war. So do not judge those who fall beside you before the conflict is done. Instead, bear them forth honorably and treat them as the fallen warriors that they are. The loss of a loved one/comrade is painful, make no mistake. But somewhere down the line, you'll be sitting in a cantina, a mug of ale in one hand and a blaster in the other. And you'll tip your cup to the sky in honor of your fallen friend and know that somewhere high above, they're tipping their own down to you.

To those who have been with me on this journey, I say thank you. To those loved ones and comrades taken from us all too soon "_Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum_." This story is for you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of its character and while plot points are from various RPG games, I take no credit for their origins only of their application in the story therein. This a labor of love and not for profit though if Disney or Lucas Arts would like to hire my creative brain, I'd be more than happy to drop everything and come running. Please read and leave a review.

**Mandalorian Redemption:**

**Chapter 1: Rogue**

**Unknown Moon: Mandalorian Space:**

The snow crunched beneath _beskar_ shod boots as the warrior swaggered along his path. A dreamscape of white powder spread out around him. The ominous howl of the wind was interrupted only the heavy footfalls in the ankle-deep powder. The pale pristine sheet was tarnished by the droplets of crimson that dotted his path. They match those that ran along the length of his long blade.

Reaffirming his grip on the newly acquired _beskad_, the warrior followed the trail of blood. He moved slowly with the caution of a seasoned hunter. The droplets grew in number the further he tracked. Soon they combined into splotches which than morphed into puddles. His prey had underestimated the severity of its injury.

Snow began to fall, peppering his armor and drifting across the path. The moment the flakes hit the blood they evaporated. What had begun as long stride marks had dissolved into staggering stumbling canyons in the snow. More blood pooled in these holes. The snowfall was getting heavier, but it wouldn't matter. Jarek's prey wouldn't get far.

It wasn't long before the scattered footprints and sprays of red fluid ended. In their place knelt a man in full Mandalorian armor. A stylized _jai'galaar_ in mid-dive adorned his shoulder plate. The deep greys and blues of his outfit blended well with the landscape, but not enough to hide from the lone predator.

The man leaned heavily on one arm while the other clutched at his side, crimson flowed freely between his gloved fingers. As Jarek approached the helmeted face turned towards him. The bloodied hand raised toward the approaching Mandalorian. Between the bloody fingers, Jarek could see himself reflected in the visor. He didn't need to see his eyes to know the man was in fear.

Life's hardest choices are the ones that force someone to question their own moral code. Jarek's choices lead him here. Standing against those he had once called brothers and sisters.

He'd never bought all the _osik_ that Mandalorians didn't fear death. They feared death as much as any _aruetiise_. The difference is that they accepted that death is the natural state of things. Death is inevitable. Those who fool themselves into believing otherwise are only causing more pain in the future. The true purpose of life is to live in such a way that beings will remember you long after you yourself have returned to dust.

Jarek barely gave the pleading gesture a moment's consideration. Casually he deposited the foot and a half-length of steel into the snow next to the wounded warrior. It landed in a puff of powder just out of arms reach. It was his after all. Next, he drew the Westar 35 blaster pistol from his thigh holster.

Jarek had sworn to uphold the tenants of the Mandalorians. He had promised to never compromise the honor of the Death Watch. Jarek was told he would be the sword that protected his people from the threats of the galaxy.

He had been a damned fool.

In the polarized surface of the warrior's visor, he saw Jilo's pleading tear-filled eyes and the blade ran home. He saw Gare's bloody rictus as his life ebbed away. Somewhere beyond the wails of the encroaching snowstorm, he heard the female voice demand, "_Why? Why would you do this?_"

At that moment he realized it was the kneeling Watchmen that was moaning the same word. "Wh…why?" he coughed and stumbled, and the words came weakly, "Why are you…doing this?"

Jarek could've offered some form of justification for his actions; why this warrior needed to die. He could've given enough validation he might've been able to convince his prey that he was in the right. Visions of his crew, his family swam before him. Images of purple eyes and a beautiful smile. Loved ones he might never see again.

The blaster was leveled, the sights lining up with the chest of the defeated warrior. He didn't deserve to know, and he didn't have the time.

"N…no…honor," the warrior managed to croak out clutching at his wounded side. Even suffering from blood loss the Watchman managed a defiant tone. "A mando…with no honor is no better than an _aruetiise_."

Honor is what separates them from all the _aruetiise_ of the galaxy. It's their honor that bound them to one another as brothers and sisters, honor that keeps them true and calm in battle. It is honor alone that has led Mandalorians to victory a thousand times, and it is honor that will lead them to victory a thousand times again. Their honor is what defines them, what guides them, what molds their lives into something beautiful and worthy of showing the galaxy. And those without honor are lost souls, unworthy of living but too pathetic to die.

The worst fate for a Mandalorian is not damnation or eternal pain. It is to merely be forgotten. To be lost among the countless masses of dead passing to the next world with every hour that ticks by. To be forever separated from the actions of this world, until all memory of one's life and deeds are gone, and long past being remembered. To have not a single tear shed in memory of one's passing.

The weapon barked once, and the snow was stained in a great swath of red fluid.

"_Tion ke'gyce ner kad al'ijaat_?" Jarek said before kneeling and ripping the chest diamond from the dead man's chest. The piece of beskar was deposited into a pouch filled with others.

History may brand him a traitor to his people; a rebel or renegade without a cause. In the end, it didn't matter how history remembered him. What mattered is that he followed his own path. And that path had only one ending…

"I'm coming for you father," Jarek whispered to the storm, "I'm coming for you all."


	2. Chapter 2 A certain Marksmen

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of its character and while plot points are from various RPG games, I take no credit for their origins only of their application in the story therein. This is a labor of love and not for profit though if Disney or Lucas Arts would like to hire my creative brain, I'd be more than happy to drop everything and come running. Please read and leave a review.

**Chapter 2: A certain Marksmen**

**Outer Rim: Nelvaan:**

It had been some time since Slick had traveled on a mode of public transport. He couldn't say he missed it. Even on the more civilized worlds of the mid-rim, you couldn't avoid the stench of a myriad of different species crammed together. Without proper air circulators, there was no escaping the fumes associated with ships coming and going. He supposed that after a while all spaceports started smelling the same; fuel exhaust and spacers who hadn't bathed in five rotations.

Sighing in resignation Slick disembarked the transport. It was all he could do not to yearn for his cozy cabin back on the _Outcast_.

Making sure his pack was secure he slung his rifle case and made his way to the checkpoint. Being a small municipal port there were only a handful of security checkpoints manned by an equally limited number of Security officers. Sighing again Slick joined the queue. Yep, he certainly didn't miss public transportation.

As he approached the line the Pantoran smiled at an older human couple he recognized from the flight. Despite being total strangers, they'd shared their cabin and provided pleasant conversation. To repay their kindness Slick allowed them to take the spot in front of him. They smiled and accepted the offer graciously.

"_Boska_! _Boska_!" a burly Dressellian called out shouldering his way through the crowd, "Either hurry up or let me pass!" His impatience was annoyingly palpable.

Just before he could step in front of the couple, Slick spoke up. "My friend," Slick's deep cultured voice stopped the Dressellian in his tracks. He was dressed as a worker, but he looked more like he'd just stepped out of a mineral mine rather than off a means of transport with a working fresher. He embodied every aspect Slick disliked about public travel; unsavory, stinky, and worst of all rude. Stars did he miss the _Outcast_. "These beings have traversed a great distance as well," he fixed the bulbous headed alien with a hard gaze, "So I know you won't mind if they go first." Swallowing a lump in his throat the worker looked rebellious but didn't argue.

Shifting his eyes back to the older couple Slick smiled and nodded. "Ma'am, sir." They returned the smile and without a backward glance went ahead. Just as the Dresselian moved to get behind them, Slick stepped forward. "Pardon me," he stated bringing the worker up short, "I'm next." The Dresselian looked fit to argue but didn't.

The queue moved quickly, but due to their advanced age, it took the couple a bit longer to get through security. The Dresselian fidgeted with agitation and more than once bumped into Slick as if that might make the line go faster.

"They should've gone last," he growled stepping on Slick's heel, "or gotten the hell out of the way."

Slick had had enough and levered his rifle case up between the worker's legs. He wasn't familiar with Dresselian anatomy, but most humanoids were built roughly the same. As the being gasped and doubled over Slick deduced his guess had been correct.

Reaching the security checkpoint Slick showed his hunting permits, before rejoining the couple in the foyer. "I'm so sorry Ser Husdo," the woman apologized, both looking sheepish, "We seemed to hold that fellow up."

"Not to worry," Slick said smiling courteously, "We had a word, and it turns out he wasn't in too much of a hurry after all." Yes, Slick hated public transportation, but he had to admit it was never dull.

Biding the couple goodbye, he turned and headed out into the town of Freedway—

-And his ride was nowhere to be found. Slick's chin sunk to his chest as he sighed in exasperation. Madlyn had arrived on an earlier flight so as to contact their client's man and get a general layout of the area he would be hunting in. Successful hunts were determined by-in-large by good prep work. Now he was in a strange place with no clue as to the lay of the land.

He silently prayed Maddie hadn't got distracted by the nearest bottle of alcohol. Her addiction had only gotten worse since Era's departure with the _Outcast_, and Tersen stubbornly remaining in New Meen. If the Alderanni had crawled into a bottle, then he'd have to locate her after he found their contact. The client hadn't come across as a very patient man, but he would have to be understanding.

The only silver lining Slick could find is that Freedway appeared to have only one main street and all the businesses flanked it. If Maddie and the rendezvous were anywhere it was along that main avenue.

Setting his shoulders Slick set out into the town.

Nelvaan had only one major city. Denesy was an expanding mining and agricultural center with all the infrastructure to support both. It still bore all the signs of a recent colonization effort; prefabricated structures alongside landlocked mass-transport craft. Having been founded by the first settlers to spew out from the main group Freedway was ramshackle by comparison. All of the buildings were constructed from local materials with some modern amenities scattered amongst them.

The main road leading from the port was flanked by stores, inns, and other businesses one would find on a thriving backwater mining settlement. Crowds of workers were already making there way to buildings advertising food and drinks. Likewise, he spotted clear indicators of entertainment of the scantily clad verity. The amount of foot traffic kicked up a haze of dust as the main road was as of yet unpaved.

"_These boomtowns are all the same_," Slick grumbled though not with a few lingering glances.

As he pressed onward, Slick noted that many of the locals were armed; male and female. There was an air of weariness about them as if they expected trouble at any time. Like all newly settled colonies, the threat of raiders, bandits, and pirates were a real and present danger. Judging by what few examples he'd seen untamed local fauna was also a danger to the unprepared.

"_Gotta love the rim_," he thought sardonically.

Other then a pair of marshals escorting some bound prisoners to a transport and the security at the port there was hardly any indication of an Imperial presence. Far-flung settlements rarely warranted a large security force, relying more on the local authorities to keep order. It made Slick mindful of his own blaster strapped to his hip.

Scanning the street for his ultimate destination, he caught the eye of some locals. A pair of men, Slick pegged them as farmers, approached him. They, like their clothes, were weather-worn, but tough looking. The hunter relaxed when both men smiled and made a show of keeping their hands away from their holsters. A courtesy rarely found in the outer rim.

"Where ya from, mate?" the eldest asked, genuinely interested. The accent was strange. Definitely not a coreward dialect, but perhaps from the inner rim but with a rural burr to the words. It was gruff, but not altogether unpleasant to hear.

Pausing in his search Slick answered. "Pantora originally."

"That near Corellia?" the other man asked.

An odd follow-up question, but then again Slick figured most of the locals were first-generation settlers. More than likely they hadn't been anywhere other than their home system before jumping on the nearest outbound colony ship.

Though eager to keep moving Slick also didn't want to seem impolite. "A few parsecs further than that I'm afraid." It was then he noticed the sheer lack of near-human and alien species on the street. In fact, Denesy had also favored a sizable human population as well. It was no wonder he drew the farmer's attention. His light blue skin and amber eyes stood out in very sharp contrast to the warm colors around him.

By his nature, Slick didn't like standing out in a crowd. The benefit of most worlds he'd visited was his ability to fade into the multi-colored tapestry of the sentient populations. It was a good thing he wasn't hunting a sentient bounty, otherwise, they'd see him coming a kilometer away.

A part of him wanted to locate Maddy and head back to New Meen. It was his first solo job sense leaving Tatooine. It was natural to be nervous but coupled with the emotional gut-punches of Jarek and Era's absence he wasn't sure he was in the proper frame of mind to hunt. It certainly didn't help that his eyes on the ground were absent. Not that any of his anxiety mattered. Slick had already accepted the commission. His employer had even paid for transportation. Reneging at that point would've been unwise. If Mr. Mariston could afford hyperspace transport across systems, then he could easily afford a bounty hunter.

Sighing in frustration, Slick reaffirmed his grip and pressed forward. He scanned the building fronts looking for the place he was set to link up with his crewmate. Aggravatingly, almost every store, inn, brothel, and cantina, all seemed to blend right into one another. Any signage was so subtle he had to look twice to make sure he hadn't passed the correct Inn.

His frustration and lost expression must've been obvious because it drew the attention of yet another local. If her gaudy attire was anything to go by Slick figured her for a madam of a nearby saloon. Her words only confirmed it.

"Could I interest you in some food? Drink? Maybe some company?" Her cultured tone was thick and obviously put on, but Slick was too polite to point it out. Like many in her profession, she was playing a part to turn a profit.

"No, thank you," he declined politely, "I'm just a bit turned around is all."

"Ah, a tourist then!" she exclaimed excitedly, her prim accent slipping slightly. "Splendid!" She curled closer to the Pantoran. The only thing thicker than her perfume was the dust in the air. "Is there anything I can help ya with?" She asked sweetly, "For a modest sum I can find you whatever ya need!"

The request didn't come as a surprise. Nothing was free on the Rim. "I'm looking for the Swan Tide Inn," he stated, before tossing the madam a credit.

After glancing at the currency, she shrugged and tucked it in her blouse. "Ah yes," she said, her fake accent returning, "One of Freedway's prized establishments!" She turned and gestured further up the road. A blue and white sign was barely visible at that distance, but at least now he knew he was going in the right direction. Nodding his thanks, he tossed her an extra credit. The madam smiled and gestured towards the saloon. "You sure you can't mix a little business with pleasure?"

"Just business, my dear," he replied smiling as respectfully as her perfume would allow. The woman shrugged and headed back to her business without a backward glance. Slick might've commended her on her determination, but he was in too much of a hurry. He also still needed to locate Madlyn.

"_Where is that woman_?" he thought. His commlink was useless amidst the local infrastructure which meant if the Alderanni was lost he had no way to contact her. Unless she was at their rendezvous point with their client then she may very well be on her own.

Slick was mildly comforted that whatever trouble Madlyn Kallos found herself in she could handle it. She had a knack for that sort of thing. "_Then again she also has a talent for getting into trouble._"


	3. Chapter 3 Mad Maddie

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of its character and while plot points are from various RPG games, I take no credit for their origins only of their application in the story therein. This is a labor of love and not for profit though if Disney or Lucas Arts would like to hire my creative brain, I'd be more than happy to drop everything and come running. Please read and leave a review.

**Mandalorian Redemption:**

**Chapter 3: Mad Maddie**

**Nelvaan: Freedway:**

Madlyn Kallos backpedaled, her arms pinwheeling in a desperate attempt to keep her balance. She would've regained her footing had she not bounced off a passing settler. They both crashed to the ground, Madlyn landing flat on her front. Rolling over she rubbed at the fresh pain of her chest and the growing soreness in her jaw.

The man she crashed into picked himself up. "Watch the hell ya going!" he shouted. Before he could add any extra profanities, the settler was shoved aside. He looked fit to fight the newcomer but quickly reversed the decision. Three beings had stepped out of the cantina Madlyn had up until recently been enjoying herself in. Two sneering humans and a tall angry looking Weequay loomed over her.

Unable to help herself, the Alderanni smirked despite the pain. There was nothing quite as sobering as a solid punch to the jaw. She started to speak when one of the humans hauled her to her feet. "Oy, Grimmel, can't we talk this out?" she asked with a grin. The Weequay snarled and started to pull back a callused fist. "_Guess not!_" She had to wonder what in the stars she'd said to rile all three males up. She had been deep in her cups so there was honestly no telling.

Before Grimmel, could fully wind up, Madlyn kicked out catching him in the gut. Before he could recover Madlyn flung her head back catching the man holding her square in the nose. Though the man released her, Madlyn reeled from the stinging pain in the back of her head. The second man took advantage and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Oy, watch it there handsy!" she shouted in anger. The man only laughed squeezing all the harder.

The first man touched his nose and found blood. "Ya mangy _slag_!" Spitting in anger he stalked toward the pinned smuggler. Unable to break free, she kicked again. Her rugged outdoor boot connecting with the man's soft groin.

Mr. Handsy, also a bit drunk, couldn't help but laugh at his partner's discomfort. Taking advantage of the distraction. The mad Alderanni reached up, gripped the man's ears and twisted. Her own ears rang with the pitch of his squeal. The moment his grip released she turned, planted her feet and balled up her fingers. Her knuckles rang with a sharp crack across Handsy's jaw causing him to crumble into the assembling crowd.

Onlookers were jeering and cheering. Madlyn couldn't help but indulge them with a small wave. Or she would've had her hand not throbbed in pain. "_Stars that was like punching a durasteel wall!_" Her brief bit of inattention cost her. A scream pierced Madlyn's lips as she was yanked back by the hair. Grimmel had recovered and was holding the woman at arm's length, a fist cocked back and ready to fly.

"_Stang my luck!_" she grimaced. Whatever she had said or done in her drunken stupor she hoped it was worth the coming pain. If she was lucky it might even knock her out cold for a few blessed hours. Madlyn closed her eyes awaiting the coming blow.

…But it never came.

"Gentlemen, I don't believe the lady is all that interested in your company." Her breath hitched in her throat. Madlyn would recognize that posh genteel accent anywhere.

She parted an eyelid to be certain, and sure enough, there stood Slick as tall and blue as he was ruggedly handsome. Utter relief filled her body. He stood behind Grimmel, holding the weequay's arm back with the barrel of his rifle. The mussel was pointed precariously close to the ruffian's head. Not liking his chances Grimmel lowered the fist and released Madlyn.

The Alderanni immediately rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the Pantoran. "What took you so long?" Madlyn demanded even as Slick edged her behind him.

"Imperial Customs," Slick quipped by way of explanation, though there was no mirth in his eyes. His steely hunter's gaze never left the three sentients who were backing away, hands raised. "You were supposed to meet me at the spaceport."

_Stang_! She had totally forgotten the time of day it was. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure what the date was either. Just how many drinks had she partaken? Shrugging she said, "Got a bit distracted."

"By the fight or by the what was on tap?" he demanded, and even in her buzzed state there was no mistaking the icy tone of resentment and exasperation. Where had that come from? Sure, she messed up but no more then she had in the past. Was he actually…disappointed in her?

Before she could inquire any further, the Weequay interrupted. "What's this _slag_ to you?"

Slick ignored the question and the insult, making a point to place himself between the assailants and his woman. Madlyn adored the chivalrous action even if it was unnecessary. "This doesn't have to get messy," he offered, though by the number of bloody noses and split lips, the statement was rhetorical at best. "Let us go and we'll be on our way."

"That _slag_ insulted my mother!"

Slick groaned deep in his throat before looking back at her. There was that 'ice' again. '_Really!?_' his glare seemed to say.

Ah, now it was starting to come back to her! Madlyn smirked and shrugged. "I just said she might've been…uglier than a bantha…wearing lipstick." She shrugged again even though her face burned with embarrassment. Slick always seemed to make her feel like she was being admonished by a frustrated parent whenever she kriffed up. "Not an insult if it's true," she offered in a helpful tone.

'_Not helping!_' his eyes practically yelled making her flush even deeper. She never did develop much of a filter and copious amount of alcohol always exasperated the problem.

Grimmel's hands tightened into fists again. "My mother died getting me on a refugee ship to Nar Shaddaa!" He shouted staring with murderous intent, "I grew up an orphan!"

And that had been what set her off in the cantina, she recalled. "Oh boo-who didn't!" she mocked. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew the response had been exceptionally harsh even by her standards. But the way the Weequay had carried on with his 'woe-is-me-I'm special-because-I-had-hardships' sob story had galled her to no end. "You don't have a monopoly for crappy childhoods, _chuba_-face!"

"Please shut up, Maddie." Despite the courtesy Slick wasn't asking. He was ordering. He desperately trying to keep the situation from deteriorating any further than it already was. They were there for a job, and that job did not include getting into a shootout in the middle of town.

Grimmel actually growled, low and animalistic. "You see why I have to kill her?" he asked.

"Enough!" Slick shouted causing nearly half the street to go silent. The threat to her life had sparked a fire in his eyes, causing both Maddie and Grimmel to take a step back. "Your both being ridiculous. We can resolve this disagreement without a fight." Ever the diplomat, her Slick. He always seemed to have a knack for talking Madlyn out of trouble when her own charm had failed. "Maddie you apologize for insulting this nice man's mother." Madlyn did a double-take at the words. Did he actually expect her to do something so unwarranted? Slick silenced any argument from her with a glance before looking at the three beings. "And you apologize for assaulting her."

"Oy!" She exclaimed glaring up at the Pantoran, "I ain't sorry for anything!" Slick stared her down until the weight of his morality forced her to relent. "Fine!" she snapped before addressing the Weequay, "I'm sorry I insulted your mother."

Grimmel actually had the audacity to look shocked. "What?" he held a hand up to his ear as if he couldn't quite hear her, "I didn't catch all that." His partners whom she recalled were named Dokin and Hobb, sneered and laughed.

If she still had her blaster, Maddie might've shot all three of them out of spitefulness. As it was, she was doing her best to behave in front of Slick. Not to mention the bartender had taken all their blasters upon entry into the establishment. Sighing in exasperation Madlyn repeated herself in a much clearer tone. She even made a decent attempt at being earnest. "I'm sorry I insulted your mother." She realized not all mothers were lousy mudsuckers and deserving of her ire. "I'm sure she was a very nice lady."

"Wrong!" Grimmel shouted with a victorious grin, "She was the best."

Frustrated and indignant Madlyn managed to keep the venom out of her tone. "Now where's my apology?"

The Weequay matched her earlier smirk, "Sorry…that I didn't get the chance to feed you to a Horax. That would've ruined any chance of us doing business."

Before Madlyn could make any sort of retort Slick cut in with a question. "What do you mean business?"

A shock of alarm coupled with realization shot through her body. "Oh yeah," Madlyn exclaimed as even more memories of recent events began piercing the drunken haze. Avoiding his eye's, she rubbed back of her head nervously. "Did I forget to mention…" She suddenly took on a more sheepish expression and wrung her hands anxiously. "These…errr…gentlemen are our…contacts."

Slick stared at her with complete and utter bewilderment. "Oh, stang and kriff it all Maddie!" he shouted, flinging an arm up in frustration. Madlyn felt her face flush even more. That might've been a bit of information that needed sharing early on.

"Wait!" Grimmel exclaimed looking equal parts appalled and annoyed. "You're the fella Mariston told us to fetch!?" And that was when Madlyn realized that she hadn't told the Weequay her crewmate and partner was a Pantoran. He must've assumed he was human like her.

Slick ran a gloved hand over his own irritated expression. Madlyn was looking downward trying her best to appear ashamed and failing miserably. If she was being honest the look on Slick's face was too funny.

"Damn it all! You were supposed to arrive early," he growled, "and meet our contact." His hand tightened around the stock of his weapon. For a brief moment Madlyn wasn't entirely sure if he wouldn't use it on her. "Not get drunk and fight our contact!"

His glare said it all. "_Thanks to you,_ _this job is already off to a fantastic start!_"

Smiling despite the malevolent stares she was receiving, Madlyn straightened. Placing her hands on her hips she addresses their three gaping contacts. "So…where's the speeder to Mariston's?"


End file.
